Son of Adam
by FemaleChauvinist
Summary: Carlisle's compassion extends to everyone, both human and vampire…but by helping a "traditional" vampire, is he responsible for the lives that vampire goes on to take?


**Disclaimer:** While the attempt has been made to be medically accurate, some artistic license has been taken, and statements made by Carlisle and other medical personnel are not to be regarded as authoritative.

Recognizable characters and plotlines are the property of Stephenie Meyer; all original characters and story © 2018 FemaleChauvinist.

 _Do not post without permission. Do not copy/print without including the above disclaimer in its entirety._

 **A/N: The date of this story is correct for my alternate history, as described in my profile. Barbie**

 _Nessie married about a year_

 **Blaisden**

"It's disgusting, of course," others had told me, "but eating human food doesn't hurt us. We just have to bring it back up afterward." What I realized now was that they had left out one crucial piece of information…how did one bring the food back up? It was a week now since I had choked down that bowl of stew, and still it lay heavy in my stomach. I had tried everything I could think of to be rid of it, even sticking my finger as far down my throat as I could.

Now I was starting to get desperate; it was three weeks since I had been hunting, and the thirst was growing intense even as I weakened. I had always felt noticeably weaker even two weeks after feeding, but now it seemed the human food was sapping my strength even more quickly. I decided finally that the only thing to do was hunt as I was.

It didn't help. Oh, the blood eased my thirst as it slid down my throat, but I couldn't even drain one body; my stomach was too full. And rather than strengthening me, it seemed to weaken me even further.

In desperation I tried again to make myself vomit; it was no use. I wondered now if those others had been speaking with a touch of irony; human food wouldn't hurt us _if_ we could bring it back up. After all, who in his right mind would eat that stuff?

I wandered aimlessly, searching for I didn't know what.

And then I found it. The trail was faint at first, but unmistakably the scent of one of my kind. It grew stronger as I followed it, crossed and re-crossed by several individuals. Perhaps these vampires would know what I had missed.

At last I emerged from the woods, the scent leading up to a large white house.

I nearly stumbled as I climbed the porch steps, and clung to the doorframe as I knocked.

It was opened by a female vampire. She was pretty and pleasantly round, but there seemed to be something odd about her eyes, though I was having trouble focusing enough to tell what. "Hello," she greeted me.

Anything I had thought of saying fled as my knees trembled. "Please," I gasped, "…help me…"

She jumped forward, just in time to catch me as my legs gave way beneath me.

 **oOo**

 **Esme**

I was alone in the house when the knock came at the door. I opened it to find a male vampire, leaning on the doorframe with one hand. It looked almost as if he needed it to stay upright…but that was silly; vampires never needed support.

"Hello," I greeted him. Vampires couldn't go pale, but there was a pinched, almost green look to his features; _was_ he ill?

"Please…help me…"

He wavered and I jumped forward, catching him as he sagged toward the ground. He lay limply in my arms, only his eyes looking at me beseechingly. Vampire or not, impossible as it seemed, this man was in need of my husband's attention.

I carried him into the house and gently laid him on the sofa.

He smiled faintly. "Thank you…?"

"Esme," I said softly. "And you?"

"Blaisden."

I brushed a hand across his forehead. "Just lie still, Blaisden; I'll be back in a few minutes." I pulled an afghan over him before hurrying into the kitchen to call Carlisle.

"Hello, love," he greeted me in the tone of voice he reserved for me alone. "What's the occasion?"

I laughed softly. "Do I need a special occasion to call you, Carlisle?" I loved that about his current job as staff physician at the local nursing home; he had time sometimes just to talk to me. Sometimes he would hand the phone to one of his patients; they got a kick out of talking to their doctor's "lovely young wife."

"Of course not," he answered instantly. "But you don't sound like you called just to talk, love."

I supposed it was a good thing I never had any secrets to keep from him. "No," I admitted. "A stranger came to the door a minute ago. He begged for help, and then… _fainted_ into my arms."

Carlisle was silent for a moment. "By 'stranger,' you mean an unfamiliar vampire?" It was our normal use of the term, but seemed completely at odds with what had happened.

"Yes. He just sagged, as if his legs couldn't hold him. I carried him to the sofa."

"What color are his eyes?"

"Burgundy."

"They should be black," Carlisle mused, "if he's thirsty enough to be that weak."

"I don't think it's just thirst, Carlisle. He looks…ill."

I was glad Carlisle didn't instantly tell me that that was impossible. I _knew_ it was…but I also knew what I had seen. And my husband respected me enough not to discount my observations.

"Is he conscious?"

"Yes."

"All right. I'll —" He broke off, then spoke rapidly. "I have to go, love; I'm being paged. Keep him lying down, and call me if he seems to be getting worse; I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Goodbye." I shook my head as I hung up the phone; he had relatively few emergencies at this job, but of course one would come just when he was needed at home.

But I knew if it was one of the family who needed him, he would have put us first.

"Blaisden?" I said softly, returning to his side. "Can I get you anything?"

He shook his head as if the effort took all his strength.

I put my hand on his shoulder. "My husband will be home in a little while; he'll be able to help you."

Though Carlisle's study of medicine mainly involved humans, I had absolute faith in his abilities as a doctor…with _any_ species, any situation. The only time I had seen him out of his depth was when Bella had been pregnant with Nessie…and even then he had _done_ it, keeping her human until the baby was mature enough to survive outside the womb. Yes, I was confident my Carlisle could handle anything.

 **oOo**

 **Blaisden**

The afghan Esme pulled over me was unnecessary, of course; as a vampire I was more aware of heat and cold, but immune to their effects. Yet the weight of the blanket was curiously comforting. Though Esme was obviously "younger" than I — I had been changed in my late thirties — as she fussed over me I found myself recalling dim human memories of my mother tending me when I was sick as a boy.

"My husband will be home in a little while," she told me softly; it struck me as odd that she used the human term _husband_ rather than the more typical vampire _mate_. "He'll be able to help you."

I could have asked Esme, I supposed, but somehow it seemed a breech of etiquette to speak about vomiting with a female. No…not just a female…Esme was a _lady_. I would wait for her mate…her husband.

Esme hovered near me as we waited, leaving my side only when the front door opened. I didn't try to follow the soft murmur of voices as she greeted her mate, but in a few moments she was leading him to my side.

"Carlisle, this is Blaisden. Blaisden, this is my husband, Dr Carlisle Cullen."

Doctor…? I was worse than I thought; I had to be hallucinating. There were no such things as vampire doctors; when did a vampire ever need a doctor?

"Let's see what we can do for you, Blaisden," he said easily, sitting on a stool he pulled up beside the sofa. He took my chin gently in his hand, staring into my eyes for a moment. His own had the same strange appearance as Esme's. It was the color, I realized; gold instead of red or black.

He frowned slightly and held a hand in front of my face. "How many fingers am I holding up?" he asked quietly.

I struggled to focus. "Four…?"

"Mmm." He took my hand in his. "Squeeze as hard as you can."

I gripped his hand weakly for a moment — harder than a human could have, I suppose, but nothing like vampire strength — before my hand fell away.

"How long ago did you last feed, Blaisden?" he asked quietly.

"A week."

I saw his eyebrow lift; I knew my eyes were too dark to have fed that recently, and of course I shouldn't be so weak…

"How long do you usually go?"

"Two, two and a half weeks. I can go three, but by then my control is gone; I take the next person who crosses my path." I thought I saw him wince slightly. "I'm always noticeably weaker when I need to feed." I sighed, letting my eyes drift shut. "I _know_ what the problem is, Doctor." I didn't really care if I _was_ hallucinating; maybe I would somehow be able to hallucinate a solution. "I ate some human food about two weeks ago…I haven't been able to get it up."

I told him what I had tried; how even blood had seemed to make me even weaker.

"How does your stomach feel?" he questioned.

"Full…bloated…the food feels heavy."

"But no pain."

"No. When I found your scent…I hoped you'd be able to tell me what I was doing wrong."

"Unfortunately, the things you tried should have worked," he said frankly. "For most of us, it's fairly easy…though not what I'd call pleasant." He smiled briefly, then slipped his hand under my shirt to feel my stomach. "Venom dissolves plastic," he murmured as if to himself, "but if I can do it fast enough…"

He put a hand gently on my shoulder. "Let's get you up to my office, Blaisden, and I'll pump your stomach for you."

"I can't…" I began; I knew I barely had the strength to sit up, let alone walk.

"I know. Lie still; I'll carry you." He lifted me easily and headed for the stairs.

"Doctor," I said as he gathered his supplies, "what if the venom _does_ dissolve the plastic too fast? If you can't get the food out…can vampires die?"

"I wouldn't worry about that," he said easily. "If pumping your stomach doesn't work, I know of one other way…let's just call it 'surgery.'"

I winced. No scalpel could get through vampire skin; he meant he would rip me open with his teeth and his bare hands, without anesthesia…I hoped fervently that the pump would work.

I closed my eyes as he inserted the tube in my mouth. Just the thought of watching the procedure made me feel almost as if I didn't need the doctor's intervention after all.

In a surprisingly short amount of time, he had removed the tube and was helping me to lie on my back, propped up with a pillow. "How do you feel?"

I swallowed before answering. "My stomach feels better…but I'm still weak…and thirsty."

"Lie still; I'll be back in a minute."

When he returned, he had a covered container of something red. "Blood?" I questioned.

"I couldn't think of a reason other than extreme thirst for you to be so weak," he explained, "so I stopped for this on the way home. I have more, but I want to see how your body reacts to this first."

"But…where did you get it?"

"The hospital blood bank," he responded almost absently, snapping off the lid. He held the cup to my lips. "Drink slowly."

I forced myself to obey, though I wanted to gulp at the liquid.

"Your typical patients…are human," I realized suddenly as he drew the empty cup away.

"Yes." He smiled. "You make my second vampire patient, and that's two more than I ever expected to see."

"You must find it…convenient…being at a hospital…."

"Actually, no; I keep to a strict diet of animal blood. In fact, I'll have to ask that you restrain from hunting humans in our territory. If you need more human blood to regain your strength, I can get it from the hospital, or you could try animal blood; it's not that bad."

"Your eyes," I murmured.

"The color? Yes; drinking animal blood gives one golden eyes. And speaking of eye color, yours are already wine-colored; do you feel any stronger?"

"A little."

He nodded. "I'll get you the rest of that blood, then; your body seems to be accepting it normally." He paused on the way out, his hand on the doorframe. "Blaisden. The next time humans invite you to dinner, tell them you have severe food allergies and never eat out."

"Unless I eat _them_ ," I joked.

He winced, and I suddenly put his profession and diet together. "Thank you," I whispered.

He sighed. "Yes, well…" He shook his head as if to clear it. "I'll get you that blood now."

 **oOo**

 **Carlisle**

Blaisden had recovered his strength quickly after drinking the rest of the blood I had brought him. He had refused our offer of hospitality, thanking Esme and me one more time before taking his leave.

I had occupied myself for some time analyzing the contents of his stomach; a thick mixture of venom, dissolved food, and blood. As I recorded my findings, I mused about whether any vampire would develop the same symptoms if he failed to get rid of human food, or if the reaction was peculiar to Blaisden; caused by the same physiological differences that made him unable to get rid of it on his own, that noticeably weakened him mere weeks after feeding. All vampires were stronger right after feeding, of course, but most of us had to be almost desperately thirsty before the weakness became really noticeable.

I would not ask to experiment on my family, of course, but I toyed with the idea of trying it myself. Edward was here to help if anything went wrong… But my reactions might be different entirely, drinking animal blood as I did. It was hard to know how much that would affect things.

And then, thinking of my diet, I thought inevitably of Blaisden's. I had been able to push it to the back of my mind when I was concentrating on treating his problem; on analyzing his stomach contents and making note of my findings. But now, finally, I was forced to face what I had done.

I had helped him, knowing full well that he was a "traditional" vampire; that he was not likely to be persuaded to adopt our diet. I had enabled him to return to his hunting…was it any different, really, than if I was hunting them down myself?

I closed my eyes and buried my forehead in my hand. One life every two weeks…twenty-six a year…for eternity…all on my head. I groaned softly.

There was a gentle tap on the door before it swung open. "Carlisle?"

I looked up and held out my arms wordlessly; Esme crossed the room and nestled into my lap. "Edward said you needed me," she whispered, winding her arm around my neck.

"Mmm. Esme…how can I face what I've done?"

"Done?"

"He's a _traditional_ vampire, love. Do you know how many people I sentenced to death by helping him?"

"Oh, Carlisle," Esme murmured, her voice soft with sympathy.

"Now I'm responsible for their deaths as much as he is. Should I have done it, Esme?"

"You'd treat a serial murderer, wouldn't you?"

"Yes," I replied without hesitation. "But I would turn him in to the authorities, not loose to kill more victims."

"Carlisle. _Could_ you have refused to help him?"

"No," I groaned. "God help me, Esme, I couldn't have done _nothing_."

"Of course not," she whispered, her fingers running through the hair at the back of my neck. "It's who you are, Carlisle. Kind, compassionate… To refuse to help him would have been like when Edward killed murderers. He probably _did_ save more lives than he took…but he lost some of himself in the process."

"Those were humans, Esme," I reminded her almost harshly.

"You know I've wondered sometimes if there's as much difference between them as we think."

It was true; Esme had at times mentioned an interesting view on the relationship between vampires and humans. She suggested that "human" and "mankind" in the Bible could be translated "descendant of Adam," which still applied to vampires. She had stopped referring to humans and vampires as separate species, but used the less distinct term race.

I had never put my feelings into so many words, but I had unconsciously been living by the same theory. I killed vampires only when they threatened my family, either directly or by exposure; if I had truly believed human life was more sacred than vampire life, surely I would have found it my duty to kill every traditional vampire I could. And yet…

"It's different, Esme, _enabling_ him rather than just letting him pass through."

"Carlisle, you can't worry about all the lives that will be affected by every person you save. You can only worry about the one in your hands right now."

I chuckled softly. "That would be you, love," I teased, drawing her closer. She was biased, I knew; I was afraid sometimes that she thought I could do no wrong. And yet, despite my misgivings, I really _couldn't_ have done anything else. I was a doctor, a healer. The hundreds of hypothetical humans weren't in front of me; Blaisden was. He was a son of Adam, his life as valuable as any other.

Esme smiled and reached to kiss my lips. "Carlisle…" she murmured. "Can you even begin to know how much I love you?"

"I think I can," I breathed against her lips. "It can't be any more than I love thee. Thank you, Esme." She might be biased by her love for me, but she believed every word she had said, believed that I had done nothing wrong, that my hands were still clean of the blood of innocents. And I chose to believe my beloved.

The End

 **A/N: Actually, I think what Carlisle meant when he referred to "surgery" probably had something to do with Nessie's baby teeth that he saved… If I'd been in his perspective I would have put it in, but I couldn't really do it as Blaisden. Barbie**

 _I proofread all my stories at least once before posting, but if you see any mistakes I might have missed, please let me know!_

 _Please note that I have internet access only once a week, and may not have time to respond to all reviews/messages. If you have questions regarding my Twilight alternate history, check my profile first to see if they're answered there. Thanks for your understanding! Barbie_


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